


Knife Edge

by orphan_account



Category: Avatar (2009)
Genre: A Vengeful Spirt (sorta), Abuse of Na'vi language, An unwilling Avatar of sorts, Gen, Ikran therapy, Na'vi customs, Quaritch is a jerk (but everyone already knew that), RDA sodier turned naitive, This is somehow not a crackfic, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Private Ryan Jacobs arrives on Pandora , he doesn't expect to get lost in the wilderness. He doesn't expect to meet a spirit. He especially doesn't expect to get turned into a Na'vi because of it. It doesn't help that he's forgotten how to speak English. And doesn't know how to return to normal. And he may have accidently become bonded to an Ikran and fallen for one of the natives while he's at it. Screw this. Once he escapes this madhouse, he's never going anywhere new again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knife Edge

Private Ryan Jacobs swore under his breath as he stumbled over the uneven ground of the God-forsaken jungle once again. He’d peeled off his army jacket an hour ago, but it made little difference; sweat still trickled down his forehead and down his back, his uniform sticking unpleasantly against his skin. The air was as thick as soup and twice as hot. Some sort of alien insect whined in his ear.

 _Lost!_ The bustling yet lonely forest seemed to mock him as a troop of freakish four-armed monkeys swung past on their vines, hooting their amusement. He clutched at his gun, wishing he’d payed more attention at the Indigenous Wildlife briefing.

But the monkeys—if they could be called that—payed no attention to the stranded Private, and continued on their way with hardly a second glance at the gaping man. Ryan slowly lowered his gun as the potential threat passed. There were only so many rounds left of ammunition, and there was no telling when he was going to need them next.

He was a fool. First day in enemy territory, and he’d gotten himself lost. Some solder he was turning out to be, Ryan thought bitterly.

 _My job is to keep you alive, and it is not a job I will succeed at._ The words of Colonel Quarich came back to haunt him. _None of you soft-skinned rookies would survive a night beyond the fence._ Ryan quickened his pace, his throat dry and his mind clouded with exhaustion.

The sun. He had to be rescued or stumble across a camp before the sun went down. After eighteen hours in the Pandora wilderness, they would stop looking for him. After eighteen hours, anyone not found would be declared MIA, maybe even KIA. Dead, basically.

No human could survive alone on such a planet for long.

Dazedly, Ryan wondered if anyone would find his body. It seemed unlikely. His squadron had been assigned farther from the main resource center, farther away from the jungle and more towards the coast. Out of the way of the hostile tribe of natives beyond the fence. Where there any tribes in this region? He didn’t know. Nor did he care to find out. Maybe his body would be consumed by a pack of hungry direwolves. They would probably need a DNA test to identify his ravaged remains.

There was nothing distinctive about him, nothing that would set his carcass apart from the rest. He had no tattoos, wore no dog collars. He was an average, middlish height, with a clean shaven face and deep brown, almost almond-shaped eyes. His hair was cropped short, and he was young. Shipped out to Pandora the week after he turned eighteen. Now he found himself wishing that he’d celebrated one birthday more.

He swore furiously as he stumbled once again.

His knees gave out beneath him, and the ground collided with his knees. Ryan threw his hands out in front of him to steady himself, the gun twisting in his right at an awkward angle. Slowly, carefully, he clambered back to his feet, wiping the reddish dust on his hands onto his pants. Glancing up though, he realized the clearing he was in seemed familiar.

But—but he hadn’t been wandering in circles, had he? No, he would’ve known. Ryan scrutinized the trees and massive leaves around him with suspicion. The searing heat must have been getting to him. However, something caught his attention and his eyes widened in surprise. There, on the ground!

It was a Na’vi arrow, but like none he had ever seen.

It was longer than his arm—like all of _their_ arrows, Ryan supposed—and carved from wood, but the feathers on its shaft were of the purest white and the arrowhead was golden. _Golden!_ Did the Na’vi even _have_ gold on their planet? He’d never heard such a thing.

His troubles momentarily forgotten, Ryan went over to it and picked it up. It felt light and strong, even seeming to _thrum_ with energy as his fingers wrapped around it, sending warmth running up his arm. But despite that, Ryan didn’t drop the arrow. As long as he held it, he felt _right._ Good. Peaceful. He could feel strength flowing back into his bones.

“I see you have found my arrow.”

Ryan nearly dropped the arrow in surprise. Whirling around, he found himself less than four yards away from a Na’vi warrior, bright red and gold paint streaked across his chest and over his eyes, holding an empty bow. Behind him, in the quiver, he could see feathered arrows jutting out. White feathered arrows, identical to the one he held in his hand.

Immediately, Ryan dropped the arrow and raised his gun, but the Na’vi only chuckled wryly in response.

“You cannot hurt me, little _Tawetute_. The hurt that has been done to me cannot be undone.” It stepped closer, and Ryan realized that around the edges the Na’vi looked a little blurred, and he could see the shapes of the trees straight through it.

“You—you’re—“

“I’m a ghost, yes.” The male’s eyes were filled with sadness, but beneath it all, Ryan recognized a cunning, almost calculating gleam. “That arrow you held in your hand is my last link to the world of the living, a gift granted to me by Eywa. When you picked it up, you summoned my spirit.”

“Look, I-I wasn’t trying to summon anybody.” Ryan stammered, still recovering from his shock. Was this for real? “I don’t need to talk to you, unless you can show me the way back to my camp.”

The Na’vi shook its head, expression inscrutable.

“That’s great. I must be hallucinating, why else would I be standing here talking to you?” snapped Ryan. It was all in his mind. That was the only explanation. “I’ve gone insane. Insane enough that my only company is a talking blue monkey warrior—“

“ _Monkey warrior?_ I am not a monkey, _Sky demon._ My people have lived on this land for generations, you have no right to it! You upset the balance.” The Na’vi’s amber eyes flashed dangerously, and despite Ryan’s assumption that it was all a hallucination, a tremor of fear ran up his spine. He took a step back as the male raised its voice. “I was slain in battle by your kind defending what is rightfully ours! I have a wife, and a young son who I will never get to see grow up! But balance will be restored. You want to inflict suffering, _tawetute?_ Then you can also take part in it!”

A jolt of pain shot through Ryan’s entire body, and he screamed. His insides were burning, his hands ached. He flexed his fingers, staring down at them in alarm as they responded with a loud _crack_ as if he were cracking his knuckles. The fingers were _lengthening,_ his pinky finger retreating into the rest of his hand _._ But it wasn’t until they began to turn blue that he cried out in fear.

Wildly, he glanced up at the Na’vi. “What have you done to me?!”

The Na’vi gave no response.

Ryan groaned, doubling over as the blue—flickering over the paleness of his skin like flame over paper—spread over his hands and up his arms. His spine was on fire. He grew taller and taller, his bones melding and lengthening in accordance, but the worst of all was the _tail._ It ripped from his spine, tearing free from his already too-tight pants, lashing around wildly. His feet tore free of his boots.

A strange tingling sensation began at the top of his head just as his face exploded into agony, his nose flattening and eye sockets enlarging, ears shifting into a new shape and position. Ryan let out a sharp grunt of pain. Suddeny, he couldn't breathe. He gasped for breath, tearing the oxygen mask from his face and gulping down lungfuls of the toxic alien air. Only... It was no longer lethal. His new Na'vi lungs had no longer required the richness of Earth-like air.  

As the pain subsided, he reached up to feel the strange thing protruding from his scalp.

It was one of those freaky braid-tail things. Ryan winced, tears forming in the corners of his new eyes as he accidently tugged too hard.

“Please,” he whimpered, begging the Na’vi spirit as stripes and bioluminescent spots began appearing on his skin. “No. You’ve got to change me back. I’m begging you.”

“Who said you were done changing?” Surprisingly, the spirit seemed neither triumphant nor angry. Cold maybe, perhaps a little mournful.

“What do you mean?” Ryan pleaded. “No. _Rutxe.”_ He caught himself on the unfamiliar word. He’d never taken any courses in Na’vi, so how on Earth did he know that the word meant please? “Look, I’m sorry I offended you, but I can’t stay like this! _Rutxe,_ no. _R_ _ä ‘_ _ä si fay!”_

The strange language invaded his mind as his grasp on English began to fade. He nearly choked on his horror. This alien meant to take everything from him! If he couldn’t speak English, then how was he supposed to tell anyone that it was truly him? The spirit had changed him into a full-fledged Na’vi, not even an avatar. No one would know. And the only thing he would be able to speak was that savage, primitive, language…

He threw himself at the spirit’s feet. “Please, _kehe!_ Stop, I’m begging you! _Kempe si nga?!”_

Ryan openly sobbed, not stopping his pleas until the only words that came out of his mouth were Na’vi ones. He frantically racked his brain for something to say—something to say in English—but the human language had vanished without a trace from his memory. There was _nothing_ but Na’vi.

Slowly, Ryan sat up. The spirit was gone.


End file.
